You need to be energized today, not jittery. Byzance offers a dizzying selection of juices from fruits you've heard of as well as some real mysteries, but you settle for a tall, cold glass of orange juice. It'll probably taste even better when the outdoor temperature gets above freezing.
When you pay and get up, the owner gives you a doggy bag full of yesterday's pastries.
You walk due north, cutting through streets and parks, heedless of how the People of the Map navigate their environment, until you pass along the edge of a Walmart parking lot and reach the woods.
The day is cold and blustery, and the wind bitter. Cold mist hangs over the grim marshland around Broad Brook. The defaced standing stone rises over the mud as you check the Field Notes again and get your bearings. Then you head down the hill, between two hillocks of dead yellow grass, into the marsh.
You move cautiously, so it's over an hour before you notice how warm it's getting—so warm that you're sweating under your hoodie. Unhealthy-looking flowers bloom and wrist-thick vines sprawl and writhe like odalisques in the vegetal heat. As you climb up onto a low, wide hill covered in pale green grass, you check David Banicki's notebook.
Climbing the gentle, grassy slope, you pass more standing stones, all defaced or toppled, before you notice an odd indentation in the center of the hill.
It's a door.
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